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A CONSTRUCTIVE Criticism Community for Writers

Introduction!

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A CONSTRUCTIVE Criticism Community for Writers

Introduction!

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Ms. Dorothy Parker
Hi all! I hope this community isn't dead...
Well, never the less, of course I'm an aspiring writer; no, that's incorrect, I am a writer aspiring to be published. I figured I should place something short here first, uhm, really short actually and see what happens.


“You know what I hate?”

“The list has gotten too long,”

“I hate angels.”

The man looked over his newspaper, “Angels?”

“Yes,” the woman took a deep drag from the cigarette. “Angels.”

He went back to reading, “And why is that, dear?”

“Don’t you do that, don’t you patronize me. I have a perfectly good reason to hate angels.”

With a sigh the man folded his paper neatly and took care to place it to his right side, next to the carafe of orange juice. It was a perfectly delightful summer morning, perfect for breakfast on the veranda but he should’ve known Emily would join him. She always knew when he wanted peace and never failed to ruin it. Everything was fine until she complained about the bacon. When he pointed out there was no bacon she complained about the lack of bacon. When Esmeralda brought out some bacon she complained that one shouldn’t have to ask for bacon that it was just assumed that bacon was standard for breakfast. The bacon, coincidently, was soggy and undercooked.

He took out a cigarette, “I’m not patronizing you Emily, dear.”  He lit the cigarette with a small lighter he had found a day earlier on a newsstand. “Why do you hate angels?”

“They’re ungrateful.”

“Come again?”

“Angels are. God made them into supreme beings complete with immortality and wings and harps –“
”You don’t really think they have harps do you?”

“No, of course not but that isn’t the point. God gave them everything and all the angels want to do is complain about not being human.”

“You know this first hand?”

“Yes.”

“Did Michael tell you?”

“Whom?”

He sighed audibly, “The Arch-Angel Michael….never mind. How do you know all this?”

“From books,” she straightened her back in the wicker chair.

“Books? Like the Bible? Because I don’t ever recall reading anything that stated—“

“No, not the bible,” she spat. “The bible wouldn’t have anything concerning this topic. It’s horribly biased the bible is.”

“Yes of course. It is silly to expect the bible to have a detached view of Heaven.”

“Look, this is serious ok? Can you take this serious?”

“Sure, sure,” He waved, “I’m as serious about this as Death,” he flicked the ashes onto his empty plate, a gesture that made Emily scowl. She hated it when something was used as an ashtray; she even hated it when an ashtray was used as an ashtray.

“Ok then. Now, I for one would love to be an angel.”

“Why do they hate it?”

“What?”

“Why do angels hate being angels?”

“Oh, well, God didn’t give them free will is the case. I mean they have to do what God says, you know. They can’t choose to be a human or a dog or even a leaf. They have to remain angels. They have all this power but can’t really do anything with it, unless God tells them too. But really I don’t see what the problem is. I mean, God is a great guy,”

“Oh, he’s the best, a regular swell Joe God is.”

“If I had to choose; be a human or listen to God and be an angel. I’d be an angel.”

“Complete with harp and cloud”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Sure I am, Emily, sure I am. You would forsake your humanity, something which, according to you angels yearn for and become an angel with no free will what-so-ever.”

“Well, when you put it like that the whole idea seems awful.”

The man stood up. “You know, I think I’d be God, if you’re an angel.”

“You can’t be God.”

“Sure I can, I still have my free will.”

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